The camp outside Ranshold was a hive of activity, the air thick with the scent of sweat and metal. Valen had been there for weeks now, his muscles sore from relentless training, but it was his mind that was more exhausted than his body. It was hard to escape the question that had been gnawing at him ever since he left Draymoor, the question of why the war had been declared now, when it seemed to have been raging long before the herald's announcement.
That day, back in Draymoor, the herald had stood in the town square, his voice booming through the streets as he declared that the kingdom of Vareldrin was at war. His words were clear, powerful:
"People of Draymoor, hear this decree! The kingdom of Vareldrin is at war! Our enemies, driven by greed and fear, have declared war upon our lands. They march upon us, and our army is stretched thin. The king has issued an order: every family must send one able-bodied man to serve. Those who do not comply will face heavy taxation. The time to protect our homes has come!"
Valen remembered how the crowd had erupted in shock and fear, the weight of the declaration hitting the people like a tidal wave. But as the words echoed in his ears, something unsettled him. *The time to protect our homes has come.* But hadn't they already been at war for years? The soldiers in the camp here, rough, weary, and hardened, spoke of battles fought long before the king's decree.
Why announce it now? Why had the war, which seemed to have been going on in the shadows, only just now been made public?
Valen lay on his back in the barracks, his thoughts racing as he stared up at the worn canvas above. Dorin, as usual, was beside him, chewing on a piece of stale bread. Valen couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something important.
"Hey, Dorin," Valen said, his voice low.
Dorin glanced at him, crumbs falling from his mouth. "What's up?"
"Have you thought about why the king just announced the war? I mean, didn't it feel like it had been going on for a lot longer than that?"
Dorin furrowed his brow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "What do you mean?"
Valen sat up, his eyes scanning the camp. Soldiers bustled about, sharpening their weapons, preparing for the next day's drills. "All these men, Lior, Hennrik, the others, they've been in the war for years. They've seen battle after battle. Some of them even say they've fought more than one campaign. So why is it that the king just now decided to pull us all into it? And why is the announcement framed as if this is the first time we're under threat?"
Dorin leaned back against the wooden beam of the barracks, looking thoughtful. "You think the king's been hiding it from us? That we've been kept in the dark?"
Valen nodded. "It makes sense. The king gets to control the narrative, tell us that we've been under siege for longer than we think, and now, finally, we're needed to fight for the kingdom."
Dorin snorted. "Huh. Sounds like the old 'divide and conquer' tactic. Keep the peasants working the fields while the lords duke it out over gold and land. Then, when things get bad enough, they announce a war and start drafting everyone."
Valen couldn't help but laugh at the idea. "Yeah, well, I guess the peasants aren't enough to grow the crops and fight the battles anymore."
Dorin raised an eyebrow. "You really think it's all about gold? Seems a bit more complicated than that."
Valen paused, his face becoming serious. "I don't know. I just have this feeling that we're missing something. There's more to this war than we've been told."
As if to distract himself from the mystery, Valen threw himself into his training. But no amount of focus could shake the lingering doubts. The next morning, he found himself on the training field, surrounded by the clanging of steel and the rough grunts of soldiers sharpening their skills.
Sergeant Malric, a hulking figure with a voice like thunder, was barking orders as usual. "Form up! Don't just stand there like idiots! If you want to survive, you need to fight like it!"
Valen and Dorin, along with a dozen other recruits, scrambled to line up. The drills were brutal, designed to test every muscle and every ounce of endurance. Valen's spear felt heavier with every pass, the weight of it dragging his arms down, making his already sore shoulders ache even more.
"You're too slow!" Malric yelled at one of the recruits, a young man who stumbled during his swing. "Reset your stance!"
Valen could hear Dorin snickering beside him. "I'm starting to think Malric enjoys yelling at us more than training us."
Valen flashed a grin but focused on his footwork, trying to ignore the growing frustration in his chest. "I swear, one day I'll get this right. Just don't let him catch me messing up again."
As the hours passed, Valen's muscles screamed with exhaustion, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the training, however harsh, was a welcome distraction. It was something tangible. Something he could control.
Later that night, after another round of grueling drills, Valen sat by the campfire, the warmth of the flames offering a brief respite from the cold night air. Dorin sat beside him, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders.
"Have you heard anything more about the war?" Valen asked, lowering his voice as he glanced around. The camp was quiet now, the soldiers mostly huddling around the fire, nursing their wounds from the day's training.
Dorin nodded, eyes flicking around cautiously. "I overheard a couple of the older guys talking about the war's real reasons. They say it's not about defending the kingdom, it's about power. Control of trade routes, resources, and, get this, magical artifacts."
Valen raised an eyebrow. "Magical artifacts?"
"Yeah. Apparently, there are rumors about ancient artifacts hidden in the mountains. Stuff that could shift the balance of power if the right people get their hands on it."
Valen scoffed, though a part of him felt intrigued. "Sounds like something out of an old myth."
Dorin grinned. "I'd like to believe it's just a story. But when people are willing to send entire armies to fight for something, it's never just about land or gold."
Valen leaned back, looking up at the stars. The rumors of magic, combined with the shadowy conspiracies whispered among the soldiers, left him uneasy. The war wasn't just a battle between two kingdoms, it felt like a much deeper struggle, one that involved secrets and hidden agendas far beyond what anyone had told him.
"Maybe there's more to this war than we've been told," Valen murmured, his voice distant.
Dorin nudged him playfully. "Just don't go starting a conspiracy club, alright? The last thing we need is more trouble."
Valen smiled, but his mind continued to churn. If the war wasn't just about survival, if it was about something bigger, then they were all just pawns in a game they didn't fully understand.